


Hands Marooned

by blue_sweater



Series: Dragon Age Kink Meme Fills [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Coercion, sex as payment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:17:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5362793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_sweater/pseuds/blue_sweater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragon age kink meme fill: </p><p>After In Hushed Whispers, when Alistair shows up to tell the mages to shove off, he realizes that Inquisitor Trev/Lav/Cad strongly resembles his long-lost Warden love (she was killed fighting the archdemon or refused to be his mistress). In order to let her take the mages to Haven, he orders her to pay for them by spending the night with him. He is fully aware that she's unwilling, and just doesn't care.</p><p>Preferred:<br/>* Leliana tells her to go along with it for the good of the Inquisition<br/>* Alistair kissing her tears while he fucks her<br/>* "Good girl"<br/>* Warden stamina<br/>* She does end up orgasming at some point<br/>* default Inquisitor name; default Warden name (of whichever species/background you pick)</p><p>Only if you want to:<br/>* Alistair ordering that every time the Inquisition needs to cross Ferelden territory, Inky has to pay the toll<br/>* If you want to go for suuuuuper fucked-up, Alistair eventually decides that he's in a sick kind of love with her and wants to make her queen/ she's developed Stockholm syndrome and thinks she's in love too</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! kink meme fills are fun and I can't help myself when it comes to Alistair (apparently). Big thanks to OP for such a great prompt!  
> Original prompt link: [here](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15866.html?thread=60252154)
> 
> Please be warned, there are serious non-con elements to this story. Alistair is usually the most beautiful angel of my sweetest dreams but he's an asshole in this story. 
> 
> The title + lyrics are from the song 'red hands' by the dear hunter. :) thanks for reading!

_Maybe this is just a work of art, scripted players in a play of lust_

_Hope the end is well worth waiting for, everything you wished it be_

* * *

When Ellana was thrown back through the time-rift to her own time, she was already exhausted.

She'd just spent hours fighting demons and red Templars far stronger than any she'd seen before, so she was physically tired. She was also emotionally drained, having been forced to watch her friends suffer from the poison of the red lyrium - some of them, like Cullen and Harding, had already perished by the time she found them. Others like Bull, Varric and Leliana were still there, but only just.

Seeing them like that wasn't just hard, it was harrowing. It made her feel weak and scared. She was usually a strong person, but knowing that was what awaited them should they fail – it was overwhelming.

All she really wanted to do once she realised that they had made it out alive was collapse in Dorian's arms and cry like a child. But they still had to deal with Alexius.

It felt like the day would never end.

When dozens of armoured guards entered the hall, Ellana was about ready to start throwing a real tantrum. She’d been up to her neck in drama and intrigue all day. She wasn’t ready for anyone else to screw with her already screwed-beyond-repair plans.

She had every intention of telling the new arrivals to leave in the least polite way possible when Leliana grasped onto her arm, halting her.

“Let me go to Fiona,” said the elf sharply. “She needs my assistance.

“That is the King of Ferelden,” Leliana hissed back. “Alistair Theirin. Be careful.”

Ellana frowned and turned back to stare at the man. He was rather nondescript, she mused. Plain red-brown hair, a rather ordinary if symmetrical face. Aside from the little shouting match he was having with the mage, there was nothing about him that said ‘king’. Even his clothes were fairly plain.

“You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden,” said the man sternly.

Fiona looked heartbroken. “But – we have hundreds who need protection!” she exclaimed. “Where will we go?”

Ellana pulled away from Leliana, and stepped up to the two of them. “I should point out that we did come here for mages to close the breach,” she said bluntly.

She was prepared for the surprise on Fiona’s face, but not so the shock on the King’s. He took a step back, frowning deeply. His lips looked like they formed words but he said nothing.

Leliana took the chance to step forward. “Alistair, this is Ellana Lavellan," said Leliana. "Ella, this is King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden."

Ellana gave a bow. " _Andaran atish'an_ , highness."

" _Aneth ara_ , _lethallan_ ," Alistair replied smoothly, which made Ella blink in surprise. He knew Dalish. That was interesting.

He either didn't notice her surprise or chose to ignore it. "So this is the so-called Herald of Andraste," he said, giving her the once-over. "How – interesting."

"I am what the Inquisition needs me to be," she said smoothly.

"And what is that, exactly?"

"Someone who can close rifts and fight demons, presently," she replied. "I've got lots of other skills but didn't think to bring my resume."

Leliana gave her a withering look but Alistair's lip quirked into a smile.

“Ellana, would you give the King and I a moment?” asked Leliana politely. “There are a few things I need to get out of the way before we discuss anything further.”

Ella nodded and returned to Dorian’s side down the hall.

“Who’s that blighter?” asked the mage.

“King of Ferelden.”

“Really?” Dorian asked, “What a pity. I thought he’d be taller.”

“You really are only interested in aesthetics, aren’t you?”

“What can I say, I’m shallow.”

Leliana and Alistair spoke for a few minutes, and his eyes darted back to her a few times as he spoke with Leliana.

"What's his problem?" asked Dorian, amusedly. "Never seen an elf before?"

"Maybe he's overwhelmed by my radiant beauty," Ellana said sarcastically, staring down at her dirt and ash-covered, blood-caked, grimy body. Leliana had given them a cloth which Ella used to clean her face and neck and hands, but otherwise she was filthy.

Dorian snorted, picking at the dirt under his fingernails. "Maybe he likes dirty girls."

Ella laughed half-heartedly at that. Even if the King did fancy her, the feeling was not mutual. He was too tall and too broad for her tastes – she much preferred the smooth grace and wiry strength of the elves to the hard, solid shape of a human man. It was a crying shame Solas disliked the Dalish so fervently, they might have had something together.

Still, she could see how Alistair would be perceived as handsome. He was well-put together, at least.

She didn’t have to wait long before the spymaster ushered her over again.

He turned to the redhead. "Leliana, would you give me a moment alone with the Herald?"

Leliana nodded. "Of course. Excuse me."

Ellana caught the glint of uncertainty in Leliana’s eyes and was suddenly worried. Uncertain wasn’t something that Leliana made a habit of being. Something was wrong.

Once the woman was out of earshot, Alistair began to speak again. "This is quite intriguing," he said. "This whole situation we find ourselves in, with the mages."

"It's rather cut and dry to me, highness," said Ellana.

"How so?"

"The mage rebel army is floundering. The Inquisition can take them on board, police them and put them to good use sealing the breach," she said.

"An interesting view from a Dalish elf."

"I may not believe in the systematic oppression and imprisonment of magically talented people, but I have also seen enough damage and destruction caused by free mages to know that there must be a compromise," she said calmly. "I think that the Chantry can repair the Templar factions, but the wellbeing of the mages is up in the air. We have the capacity to take care of them and prevent any further damage."

Alistair's eyes lingered on hers. "I imagine this army of mages is invaluable to the Inquisition's cause," he said.

Ellana frowned slightly. "Of course. Our chief priority is to seal the breach."

"Then should I not receive some form of payment?" he asked. "They are a powerful resource. It is a matter of personal sacrifice."

"I don't suppose we could appeal to your charity," said Ellana dryly.

"I'm not particularly charitable, I'm afraid."

The elf crossed her arms. "Fine," she said. "What do you want in exchange for the mages?"

Alistair studied her closely for a moment.

"You," he said. "I want you."

Ellana hoped, suddenly, that this was still all an awful nightmare and she could somehow turn back time again. Her whole body felt cold. Had he actually just asked for her?

"Not forever, obviously," he added, as Ellana stared in shock. "A short-term arrangement."

"That is preposterous," she said sharply. "You cannot seriously expect such a thing."

"You asked," said Alistair. "That is my price. Go with me to Denerim and I will give you the mages."

Ellana felt her lip curling into a snarl. “If this is some sort of sick joke – so you can screw the _Herald of Andraste_ and boast about it –”

“What? No, not at all. It would only be between the two of us, I promise you that.”

Ellana could feel her throat tightening as he breathing became shorter, her body tense, heart hammering in shock. “We – I can provide you with any number of women,” she said. “There are consorts –”

“I have my own prostitutes, I don’t need yours,” he said calmly. “And besides, I didn’t ask for a whore. I asked for you.” He was not smiling anymore. He tipped his head towards Leliana across the room. “Go on, I expect you will want to speak with your left hand.”

* * *

 

Leliana knew. Of course she did.

“Did he tell you?” asked Ellana as she stormed back over.

“It was the first thing he asked,” she said, voice flat. “He seems quite determined, I’m afraid.”

“Why?” asked Ella, feeling tense and flighty. “What could he possibly want with me?”

"You bear an uncanny resemblance to Lyna.”

"Lyna? Who’s Lyna?"

"Lyna Mahariel, the Warden. Alistair's lover."

She knew that the Mahariel clan neighboured her own, and it was quite likely that she shared similar bloodlines with the Warden. She had the same dark brown hair and bright eyes, similar tone of skin and probably a similar vallaslin, too.

Leliana gave a shrug, and that was the first time Ella had ever seen such a thing from the spymaster. "Either we play nice with Alistair now and reap the benefits, or we cross him and have another war on our hands.”

Dorian stared between the two of them. "Have I missed something?" he asked. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Leliana kept her eyes on Ellana as she spoke. "The King wants access to Ellana as payment for the Southern Mages."

Dorian was shocked silent for a moment, glancing between the two of them before he said, "Access?"

"Of the bedroom kind," said Ellana, grinding her teeth in anger. Or fear. She wasn’t sure which.

"What? He actually asked that?"

"Insinuated that if I didn't we wouldn't get the mages."

Dorian looked like someone had slapped him. "Are you actually seriously considering this?"

Leliana remained stoic. "We have to consider all options."

Dorian's eyebrows shot up. "You can't, Leliana! This is barbaric –"

"The King can very easily grind our mission to a halt if he doesn't get his way," said Leliana. "If we just do as he says –"

"And let him rape the Herald?" asked Dorian sharply, the words making both women flinch. "Let him use her like a toy? Are we going to pimp her out to Celene while we're at it?"

"Mind your tongue," Leliana snapped. "I am the Herald's advisor –"

"And I am her friend," Dorian shot back. "And unlike you, I care about her wellbeing."

"This isn't just me. This is about the Inquisition as a whole. If I had my way, we would be discussing this with the Council."

"Oh, so you can take a vote on who gets to go between Ella's legs?" Dorian asked dryly, but Ella could hear the way his voice was shaking.

She gently placed a placating hand on his arm. "It's okay, Dorian," she said.

He turned to face her. "What? No, Ella, it's not okay!"

Ella took a shallow breath before shaking her head. "If I refuse, he won't give us the mages. And he won't let us into Ferelden, either. We can't afford to sever ties."

"But at what cost?"

"At whatever cost," said Leliana. "Ellana understands the logic. The needs of the many –"

"I don't care about the many," said Dorian, cutting her off. "You are supposed to protect her from all this. What sort of advisor are you, you let a man like that anywhere near her?"

Leliana's mouth twitched into a snarl. "I didn't know he would be here! And even if I had, how was I supposed to know he would ask for such a thing? He has never acted this way before."

"You should have known!" Dorian snapped. "You are supposed to know things."

"Alistair has the upper hand. We are in no position to refuse him. If Ellana says no, we lose the mages and the Templars both."

"There has to be another way.”

Leliana looked to Ellana, and the elf saw the calm veneer shift for a moment as her advisor looked on her in dismay. There really was no alternative. Leliana wouldn't be pushing this unless she thought it was completely necessary.

This was not a choice. This was _Vir Sulevanin_ , or at least the human’s version of it. It was a task that had to be fulfilled. She had to do as Alistair asked, or there would be no mage army, and no way to seal the breach. 

"We don't really have a choice," Ella said, grimacing.

Dorian's hands came to her shoulders, holding her steady and safe. "Ella, sweetheart, you always have a choice. You can say no. You _should_ say no. This is insane."

It took all her remaining energy to push his hands from her and walk away.

“Ella, wait – this is wrong!”

His words went unheard as Leliana walked her back across the hall where the King was waiting. "Let me do the talking," said the spymaster, and Ellana was more than happy to oblige.

Alistair gave another smile as they approached – but Ella could see his smiles were empty, only for show. "Have you made a decision?"

Leliana kept her back straight, speaking with a clarity and a strength that Ella envied. "The Herald will accompany you to Denerim for one day. She will then be returned to us. If any harm comes to her, you will be expected to compensate for it. In exchange, you will give us the legislative power over the entire Southern Mage army and any associated groups, and give the Inquisition complete freedom to travel throughout Ferelden."

Alistair shook his head. "A week," he said. "Not a day."

"A week is unrealistic. The Herald cannot be away from her Council for so long a time."

"Fine," said Alistair. "One day now, and one day every month for as long as you plan to move Inquisition soldiers through my territories."

Ellana felt her stomach twist so hard it was borderline painful. He was just toying with her now – haggling over her because he knew that he could.

Leliana's eyes narrowed. "That is a decision for the Council."

"You should decide quickly," said Alistair. "Because those are my terms. Otherwise, you should consider withdrawing all your troops from Ferelden."

Ellana knew that if Leliana took this to the Council, they would be forced to agree with Alistair's conditions. She knew that none of them would like it – that Cullen would fight it, maybe even Josephine and Cassandra. But in the end, they would all still decide the same every time, as Leliana had done today: the needs of the Inquisition were greater than the wellbeing of the Herald.

Taking a shallow breath, she spoke up. "No," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Leliana, you know what they will decide."

Leliana turned to her with a frown. "Ellana –"

"They will agree to the terms because it's what's best for the Inquisition," said Ella. "If I decide now, then at least they won't have to bear that responsibility."

Underneath her words was a silent plea: please don't tell them. Ella doubted she could look any of them in the eye if they knew. Nobody aside from Dorian and Leliana would know, if Ella could help it.

She turned back to Alistair. "Once a month," she said, swallowing her anxiety. "And this will be kept confidential."

He nodded. "Of course, my lady," he replied. "My lips are sealed. See you in Denerim, Herald." He turned away, before turning back and stepping a little closer to add softly, "Oh, and – wear something pretty." His hand slowly reached up to stroke her cheek, and Ellana had to go rigid to stop herself from shoving him away.

He stepped back and left with one last lingering gaze. Ella did her best to ignore the cold shiver that passed over her skin.


	2. Chapter 2

She'd been anxious the entire journey. She was glad she was able to travel alone, because she knew if she brought any companions with her they would have protested the entire way.

Which was what she felt like doing, too. But she didn’t really have a say.

Ellana had asked Dorian and Leliana to keep this to themselves, and simply tell the others that she was visiting Denerim for diplomatic purposes, that the King was interested in getting to know her. Cullen wondered aloud if he was interested in courting her. Ellana was tempted to tell him he wasn’t far from the truth, albeit a far darker and less pleasant truth.

Besides, a human king could never realistically take a Dalish wife, Herald or no. And this wasn’t about love or companionship, it was just a way to keep her and the entire Inquisition under his thumb.

She arrived at Denerim in good time, and she was allowed to leave her things in a spare room. It wasn't made explicit, but it was suggested that she would be spending the entire evening in Alistair's wing of the castle.

She cleaned herself up in the bathroom provided and wore a simple green dress of Elvhen design, cut off below the knees with breeches and a vest. She remembered what he had asked her to do – _wear something pretty_. She had swapped her usual drab leather garb for proper threads, but she refused to doll herself up for him like a whore.

She wore boots as well, and as she pulled them on she wondered how far she could run before she was caught. Running would only make it worse, of course, but she could entertain the idea.

When one of Alistair’s hand servants came to fetch her, he said little. He didn’t seem to know who she was, and didn’t seem to care. Ella wondered if she wasn’t the first elf Alistair had brought to the castle for entertainment.

The thought made her feel even more unwell, if that was possible.

When she finally arrived at his quarters, she was taken aback by the size. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but aside from being large enough to fit several houses in, each room sported beautiful furniture and rugs and tapestries and decorations. He had his own washrooms and a bathtub big enough for a cavalry.

In the main room, a dining table was set up with a large platter of fruit and cheese and bread, and he stood by the table, pouring two glasses of wine. He wore relaxed clothes, similar to what he had been wearing when they first met.

"Ah, Ellana," he said, as she entered. "How good to see you. It's alright if I call you Ellana, isn't it?" he added, glancing back up.

She paused before nodding.

"Wonderful," he said, smiling too wide as he held out a glass. "Come, try the wine. It's a personal favourite."

Ella moved towards the table and took the glass from him, before she lifted it to her mouth and swallowed it all in one go. If she could get as intoxicated as possible, it would make this easier.

But Alistair tutted. "No, lovely girl, don't gulp it," he said, taking the glass from her quickly to refill it. "Sip it slowly."

She shot a dark glare at him for a moment before reigning it in and forcing out a muttered apology. "Sorry."

"That's alright," he said. “I know Dalish have different drinks to humans.” He hesitated for a moment, as though in a trance, before he took her hand and led her to a chair.

"Try some of the food," he said. "The apples are particularly good this season, and the cheese was made here, too. Also a favourite of mine."

Ellana frowned as he began to pile their plates with food. She was so tightly strung it felt like she was about to snap – and she almost did.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

Alistair hesitated. "You mean, why am I giving you food and wine and talking with you, instead of simply throwing you against the nearest horizontal surface and having my wicked way?"

Ellana felt the blush all the way to the tips of her ears. She hadn't expected him to be so blunt.

He stepped closer, and she froze as he reached a hand down to tip her chin up, his thumb reaching out to brush over the vallaslin mark on her bottom lip. "Because, Ellana," he said, slowly. "I want this to be memorable. I want us to have a good time."

Ellana felt a shudder pass down her spine but she stayed as still as possible, meeting his steady gaze with her own dark glare.

"You'd rather I just get it over with, don't you?" he asked.

She clenched her teeth. "I'd rather not be here at all, but yes. If I must be here I’d rather it be quick."

Alistair smiled sadly. "It's not all that bad, surely. This has to be much better treatment than any of your other lovers could give."

Ellana stayed tight-lipped.

Alistair's head cocked to the side. "Unless you've never had any other lovers?" he asked.

"Don't be foolish," she snapped. "Of course I've had others."

She didn't mention that she'd never slept with a human before, only other elves. And while she was certain she could take down any man on a battlefield or in a brawl – human, Qunari, giant or otherwise – she didn't know how she would fare in the bedroom.

Ellana was a little under five and a half feet tall. Alistair was well over six, and far broader and more muscular. She had muscles but they were wiry, and she was slender and light where he was dense and heavy.

She got the feeling he would crush her. She had told Dorian not to murder Alistair because it would cause more trouble than it was worth, but now she was beginning to reconsider.

Alistair’s hand was still by her cheek, and he began to trail his fingers down her neck. “Of course,” he said, in a murmur, “If you are really that eager, we can skip dinner altogether.”

His touch repulsed her. She hated that he held all the cards, that he had nothing to lose and she had everything on the line. She hated how scared she felt, how out of place and weak and pathetic.

When his fingers reached her collarbone, her body reacted of its own accord. She stood, slapping his hand away. He caught her wrist and said, “Ah-ah – now, Ellana, we have an agreement. I would hate for you to forget.”

She clenched her teeth. His grip was too tight on her wrist, and she could feel her bones creaking. Taking a breath, she forced herself to relax her arm, and when Alistair saw she had relented he smiled, and said in a low, crooning voice, “Good girl.”

The shiver that went down her spine was followed quickly by another wave of disgust as he brought her hand to his mouth grazed his lips over her knuckles. She wanted to wrench her hand away but she forced herself to stay still.

When he pulled back, his eyes were hooded like he was drunk and he was staring down at her with dark eyes. “Get on the bed,” he said, voice still soft and low. “And take off your clothes.”

Ellana felt her heart hammering. Well, she did want him to get on with it. The waiting was worse than anything, she told herself.

But she hadn’t done anything else yet. How could she know?

Crushing her fears down, and staying perfectly stoic, she went to the large bed at the opposite end of the room and began to disrobe in an orderly and what she hoped was completely non-sexual fashion. She folded her clothes into a pile by the end of the bed, and turned to get onto the mattress.

She stared at the silk sheets for a moment too long, because then Alistair was pushing between her shoulder blades and saying in a harder tone, “I told you to get on the bed.”

Ellana fell forward with a small gasp landing on the bed with her hands which she could see now were shaking badly. Her entire body was shaking.

“Lie down, on your back,” he instructed. She could hear the rustle of his clothes as he removed his jacket, but she didn’t look. She didn’t want to look.

She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. “ _Vir Assan_ ,” she whispered, voice barely making a sound. “ _Vir Bor-Assan. Vir Adahlen_.”

“Ah, Andruil’s code. I forget the name you have for it,” he said. “Please, if you feel you want to pray to your gods, by all means.”

Her lip twitched and she added in a shaking, hissing voice, “ _Fen’Harel ma halam_.” Dread wolf take you.

“I know what that means, too,” said Alistair, dryly. “I don’t appreciate the sentiment.”

A moment later, she felt the bed dip and then he was touching her, sitting astride her. “Open your eyes,” he ordered.

Ellana forced them open and stared right into his – bright blue, cold and hard as ice.

“You will do as I tell you,” he said, firmly. “You will treat me as a lover, not as an enemy. You will behave accordingly. If I am not completely satisfied, the deal is off. Do you understand?”

She hated this. She half-wished he would just take her, throw her back out onto the street and be done with her. All this back and forth, the rules and the conditions and the way he touched her like she was something precious – it was all too much.

But she was stuck. She had to agree.

“Ellana,” he said sharply, taking her chin in hand and bringing her eyes back to his. “Do you understand?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Good,” he said, and added a moment later, “Kiss me.”

Ellana blinked. “What?”

“You heard what I said. Do not make me repeat it.”

He was actually going to make her participate, as though she wanted him, too. This was far, far worse than anything she could have imagined.

She thought of the Council, of the mages, of the breach. And she forced herself up onto one elbow to press her mouth to his.

She tried to make it quick, a sweeping brush of her lips, but he sighed. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear,” he said, sounding irritated. “What did I tell you before?”

Ellana frowned. “To kiss you.”

“Before that.”

Ellana took another pacifying breath. “Treat you as – as a lover,” she forced out.

“Is that how you would kiss your lover?” he asked.

The question was rhetorical. Ellana chose not to respond, instead trying to appease him, knowing that the longer she delayed the more suffering she would have to endure. She brought her lips back to his, and kissed him again.

This time, she did kiss him properly. She moulded her mouth to his, pressing as eagerly as she could as her body shook from rage and shame and hurt. She tugged his lower lip into her mouth with her teeth, and she heard him groan before he pressed her back down to the bed and began to kiss her back.

He kissed slowly, exploring her mouth with his lips and tongue and teeth. Ellana felt like gagging as his tongue stroked languidly over hers but she kept herself still, so very still, even when he moved to lay his body over hers, his thigh pressing between her legs – she wanted to hold them closed, but she remembered what he said. His command.

 _Treat me as a lover_.

Gods, how she wanted to shove him away. But every time she defied him she was putting the Inquisition at risk. She couldn’t keep him at bay forever.

She let her legs part to make way for his, and he murmured, “Oh, good girl. So good, my lovely girl. Now you understand.”

He was much larger than her and for the first time in a very long time, she felt very small. She didn’t usually feel small – she knew her height was irrelevant most of the time, that she could stun or strike or slay anyone regardless of her size. She was agile and strong and accurate.

But here, lying beneath this man, she felt small. And that made her feel scared and weak and helpless.

Alistair shifted to disrobe, revealing a hard and muscular torso and arms, a collection of white scars marring his freckled skin. Soft golden-brown hair covered his chest and forearms. She’d never seen a naked body covered in hair before. Elves didn’t have hair on their bodies.

She was rigid as he pressed his body against hers, flinching as his hand moved to pull her thigh over his hip. “Shh, lovely girl,” he murmured against her lips. “You’re too tense.”

“And whose fault is that?” she grit out, before she could catch her tongue.

To her surprise, Alistair smiled, and this time it wasn’t a cold empty smile. It was warmer, somehow. “Fiery, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” she said, barely able to keep the venom from her voice.

He chuckled. “Don’t you worry, little one,” he said, “I know how to make you feel better.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about, but then his hand moved and she felt his thumb brush against the long arch of her ear. The breath was stolen from her throat with a whine as the sharp pleasure ran straight down her body to her cunt, the hot shiver raking over her skin.

“N-no,” she managed, lips trembling. “Please, don’t –”

“But this is for lovers,” he said in a soft voice. “And that’s what we are.”

Ella tried to control the tremors of her body. Touching an elf’s ears was taboo, something only a bondmate could do. She placed her hands on his chest, ready to shove him away for doing something so callous, but he responded by doing it again, reducing her back to shudders and whimpers.

“Now now, love,” he reprimanded. “You can’t go back on your word. Think of how disappointed I would be – of how disappointed all your friends would be.”

She wanted to spit in his face, but he seemed to constantly be two steps ahead of her. He lowered his mouth to her opposite ear and wrapped his lips around the sharp point, and she cried out, her body bucking from the overwhelming sensation. Alistair’s hardness pressed against her thigh and his breath caught as she rubbed against it involuntarily.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” he groaned, voice rumbling in her ear, breath tickling her already sensitive skin. “Doesn’t that feel good, love?”

She was fighting it, but her body was reacting in turn to his touch, to his mouth, to his voice. She felt simultaneously sick and aroused as he peppered her ears with kisses and nips while his hands moved to her breasts, teasing at her nipples until they were hard buds, until she was breathless and her body ached for more while her soul screamed in fury and shame.

“Be honest with me, _da’len_ ,” he said, firmly this time. “Does it feel good?”

She wanted to lie but it would have been too obvious. Her body was betraying whatever intentions she had. “Yes,” she said, in barely a whisper.

“Speak up, love.”

Her lip twitched. “Yes,” she repeated, a little louder. “It feels good.”

Alistair smiled again and it was warmer, again. There was something strange with his behaviour, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Then again, even if she knew what was going on in his mind, she wouldn’t have been able to change anything.

A moment later, he brushed her hair back from her face and pressed a gentle kiss to the vallaslin on her forehead. “You’re doing so well, sweet,” he murmured. “So good for me.”

He was patronising her now. “Don’t mock me,” she hissed.

“I’m not,” he said, with a stark honesty in his voice and eyes. “I know I’m asking so much of you and I – I want to show you how much I appreciate this. How much I appreciate you.”

Another upward stroke on her ear had her shuddering, and she felt his hand shift down from her breast to between her legs. One stroke to part her lips and he was smiling again.

“So wet for me, love,” he murmured, kissing below her jaw. “Maker, how I missed this.”

 _Missed this_? Ellana was confused for a moment but then he was nipping at her earlobe and any coherent thought fled her mind. When he slipped a finger inside her, she winced and groaned.

“Please,” she managed, voice shaking as she began to lose resolve. “Please, don’t – don’t do this.”

He paused, and for a moment she thought he would actually stop. But then a smile twitched at his lip and he said in a low voice, “Too eager, aren’t you, love?”

Alistair’s hand moved to his own breeches, loosening them, and Ellana shifted away. “Wait –”

“Hold still, love,” he said, tugging her back down with a large hand on her hip. “I’ll give you what you want.”

She tried to lash out again, and he caught her ankle and held it fast to the mattress, squeezing tight enough to make her cry out.

“I said, hold still,” he snapped. A moment later, his frown receded and his voice went soft again. “I know you’re restless, but don’t press your luck, darling.”

Ellana’s heart was hammering in her chest like a scared animal, and she felt her breath hitching as he pulled her legs apart to settle between them. Before she could protest further, he had taken his length in hand and began to press inside her.

When the blunt head of his cock nudged against her opening, Ellana gasped and tried to shift away, but Alistair gripped her hip and held her still. “Steady, love,” he grunted.

He was big. He was too big. He began to push inside and it was hurting before he’d even sunk in an inch, his wide cock breaching her painfully.

“No, that – it hurts, please,” she pleaded, feeling the hot sting of tears behind her eyes, blinking back rapidly, trying to hold it in.

Alistair leaned in, groaning. “I know – I know, love, you’re – so _tight_ ,” he grunted, “Maker –”

He didn’t hear her cries of pain, or elected to ignore them and thrust his full length inside her. Ellana cried out, her voice breaking as he filled her. The first tear slid from the corner of her eye, and she turned her face away, hoping he wouldn’t see.

But he was nothing if not observant. Alistair’s hand came back to her face, turning her back to him, thumb brushing at her cheek.

“Love – oh, sweet girl,” he said softly, cooing. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Ellana bit her lip to stop it from trembling as more tears fell from her eyes. When she felt his mouth press to her cheekbone, her eyes opened. He was kissing her tears, letting the hot water run over his lips, tasting her. She was frozen as she watched him, watched this show of affection.

It was like he actually loved her. Like he truly wanted her to be his lover, and he was truly sorry for having hurt her.

She stayed still, unmoving, until his hand found and linked with hers, and he began to move. Ellana let out little more than choked-up, teary gasps at the pain. Her body was too small to accommodate him, but he didn’t stop.

He thrust slowly into her, and she hoped that he would begin to pick up speed and finish soon. She heard that human men had much the same timing as the Dalish – sometimes less, when they were drunk. She hoped he was drunk. She wanted this to end.

To her dismay, he showed no intention of finishing. He groaned as he moved inside her, slowly pumping in and out of her. She winced with each thrust, the pain subsided but receiving no pleasure from his actions.

This she could endure. This she could have managed. But when his hand went back to her ear, she let out a whimper before he had even touched her. “No – Alistair –”

“Say my name again,” he grunted, as his fingers caught and tugged at the tip of her ear.

The moan that tore from her throat surprised her, but not him. He knew what he was doing. He knew just how to make her feel good.

He lowered his mouth to her neck and bit down, before licking at the mark he had left. “Say my name,” he growled, still thrusting into her.

Ellana felt her heart wrench, like he had grasped it in his hand and squeezed. She forced herself to speak. “Alistair,” she said, trying to sound distant but her voice came out in an unsteady whine.

He tugged at the back of her knee until she lifted her calf over his legs, and he hoisted one further up to his hip. He groaned as it opened her further to him, and he thrust deeper inside.

“Oh, Maker – so good, such a good girl for me, love,” he groaned. “Fuck –”

His hand finally left her ear, but he leaned back, and moved it to her core. The first touch of his finger against her clit had her back arching up, a surprised cry leaving her lips.

Alistair groaned loudly. “Yeah, that’s it – that’s the way, love, just let go –”

To her absolute horror, Ellana felt her body responding in kind, the combination of his touches to her ears and neck and now her clit wrecking her, drawing out the orgasm she had never imagined would happen.

“Nn – no, Alistair, please,” she begged, trying to move, but he still had one of her hands in his own, and he held her fast to the mattress as he rendered her helpless with another flick against her clit.

“I want to feel you come,” he ground out, sweat beading on his forehead as he thrust into her relentlessly. “I want to watch you – come on, love, let me see you.”

Ellana fought it, her body tense and rigid, her will breaking from the energy it took to hold the pleasure at bay. She would _not_ enjoy this. She was not going to enjoy this. She would die before she enjoyed this –

Unfortunately, Alistair was picking apart at her resolve with every touch, with every thrust, and she realised that his deep, powerful thrusts no longer hurt, but actually felt good, adding fuel to the fire burning deep within her, bringing her higher and higher –

Alistair leaned closer, and with his lips brushing against her ear he spoke. “Give yourself to me, love,” he breathed, hotly. “Let me feel you –”

One last touch to her clit and a thrust angled just right and his tongue stroking at her ear and Ellana felt like her body had snapped in half, bucking as the tidal wave of pleasure took over. Her vision went white as he kept thrusting into her, kept murmuring praise as she came hard around him.

Her orgasms usually subsided within moments, but this went on as he continued to fuck her, spearing her onto his length with ease now her body was pliant, warm and wet. She shuddered, shockwaves of the climax coursing through her and she felt more tear spring into her eyes as she realised what had happened.

Alistair leaned in to kiss her again as she cried, murmuring, “That was perfect, that was so beautiful – fuck, you’re perfect, you’re so good, love – my love –”

She was oversensitive, and whimpering with every deep thrust as he pounded into her harder and faster, and she prayed that it would end but it went on and on. Each time she thought it was nearly over, he seemed to find more strength to go on. Each time she began to cry out in pain he would slow down, and bring her back to orgasm with his quick, careful fingers on her ears, her clit, her nipples, playing her like an instrument.

And each time she came, she felt her heart breaking further, felt her shame rise higher. Her pride was weeping, wounded with each moan she made, every time she begged for him to stop. She wanted to endure it but more than that, she wanted it to end.

Alistair seemed to at least understand physically what she was going through. “Just a little more, my love,” he breathed, voice husky from groaning. “Just – a little – oh, Maker –”

And then he said, “Lyna – my love, oh – I – I’m coming, love – _fuck,_ Lyna!”

Was he so far gone, in such a haze of lust that he actually believed her to be his dead lover? Was he simply playing pretend to try to cure his own grief? Or, worst of all, was he still tormenting her, making her feel even worse by pretending she was someone else altogether, reminding her that she was only there for her body to be used?

Alistair shuddered, slamming into her sporadically as his own climax took over, letting out a harsh growl as he emptied himself inside her, hot seed filling her. She gasped as he sheathed himself fully in her, deep as he could get before he collapsed over her.

He was hot, sweaty and heavy as he lay on her, breathing so deep it she could feel his lungs rumbling against her bare chest. She tried to push him off but he snaked his arms around her, holding her close and still, face buried in her neck, leaving tiny kisses against her throat.

He was speaking, saying something but his words were muffled against her skin and it was only when he got close to her ear that she heard it.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “So good – so good for me.”

Ellana turned her face away and fought back the last of her tears. She wouldn’t cry any more. She was stronger than this.


End file.
